The Blood of Revenge
by Minka
Summary: The two great friends of the LotR were not always so. Once they shared a hate so great that the future and their destinies looked like they would not come to pass. Legolas is bent on revenge & the outcome is cruel and painful for them both. *DARK AU* A/L
1. Default Chapter

Ok, so, Legolas (my muse) decided to pay me a visit in Math B today, so I started to write this. It is a dark and VERY different perspective on how Legolas and Aragorn first met, and let me tell you now, it is not under the best of circumstances!  
  
I have taken a rather odd approach to starting this story. From the notes that I jotted down as the thoughts came (very painful experience, lol) I have literally started this story in the middle of it. I kinda just picked a spot and started writing, but it worked out well. The reason for doing this is that it will have a sequel telling of further tales, and a precursory story, which will tell of what happened to cause this incident. All will be explained throughout the coming chapters so this story (should only be about 4-5 chapters long) though the precursory will be in a lot more depth. Also, the characters (especially Legolas) are kinda out of character at the moment, but that has its reason, and it too will be explained so please don't tell me that it is not right.  
  
Oh, I also own nothing!!! All characters written about in this chapter belong to Tolkien and not me. I may have a few unimportant characters coming up, but chances are that somehow – even though I made them up I wont own them either. Guess I'm just unlucky! Lol.  
  
I think that is a bout all, so sit back, relax, and enjoy.  
  
*****  
  
The Blood of Revenge.  
  
Part One.  
  
Ill Happenings.  
  
  
  
The door slowly creaked open, flooding the darkened room with the soft glow of the torches that burned in the hallway. The room was spacious and will furnished, large tapestries hung from the ceiling and royal patterned rugs covered the floor. A wooden desk pilled with papers sat in the corner just near the curtained doorway to the balcony. But it was the four poster bed that drew the attention of the intruder standing in the doorway. It was crafted out of strong dark wood; its posts carved into an elaborate twisted design that accented the woods grain. Red and black silk was used as sheets and covers, adding the royal affect to the whole scene and a white fly net hung from the crossed over top poles forming an inclosed cover.  
  
The intruder stepped into the room cautiously. He could easily hear the deep and relaxed breaths of the sleeping form spread out in the bed as well as faintly being able to see the rise and fall of the silk sheets. But that did nothing to ease his troubled mind.  
  
Pushing a lock of his golden hair away from his face he peered further into the room. Nothing moved except the steady rising of the lump in the bed and the occasional blowing of the curtains in the wind.  
  
The tall figure closed the door with a soft click and silently walked over to the bed. Pulling back the netting, the tall man leaned in to look at the person that he had ruthlessly hunted for so long. Months of tiresome searching and tracking had been spent looking for this man, and now that he had found him, he could feel the anger rise up within him again, even though it had never truly left.  
  
The man's shoulder length wavy dark hair hung about his face and spilled onto the pillow. A small amount of facial hair grew on his upper lip ad chin, framing a slightly parted mouth. His breaths were even and fluent even though his brow was creased into a frown.  
  
As the figure watched, the man tossed in his sleep, letting out a startled cry as he clung to a small black square pillow. The sudden movement made the standing man draw back with a start, his heart pounding quickly.  
  
Looking at the seemingly defenseless sleeping man, his heart slowly started to soften. There was something about the unconscious form in the bed that almost made the intruder want to turn and leave, to put the past months of anger and hurt out of his mind and let the cursed man live.  
  
Almost.  
  
With a silent sigh he slumped down into a chair that was positioned near the bed and carefully placed his booted feet upon the silky sheets. He couldn't understand why he was having these doubts. This human had taken from him what he held dear, what he thought to be the source of his very existence, and now, when he had the chance, he found himself wanting to spare the evil man.  
  
He thought to the stories the Elders used to tell him when he was but a hundred years old. That Men were evil, that they were a hindrance to Manwë and reflected in them too much of the like of Melkor. For as long as he could remember that was what was taught to him, "never trust the likes of a Man, for their hearts and heads are corrupted and they hold no love for the gifts given to them," the words of his advisor, his teacher and his friend.  
  
To this day he had never trusted a Man, and he could see why the Elders spoke of them in the way that they do. He had seen for himself the destruction that pumped through their veins, driving them forward with an unquenchable thirst for power and titles. Their want for glory even in times of great peace and most of all their blunt disrespect for the world and it's intricate song.  
  
It upset him more then angered him, that a being with such gifts from the gods could be so distant from them. But there was nothing he could do about it and he knew it. One Elf could not change the course of the future, even if he had reason to try. So why should he care that this man should loose his life as a payment of that which he took?  
  
To this, Legolas Greenleaf, son of Thranduil, king of the woodland Elves of Mirkwood had no answers. All he felt was a deep confusion that ate away at his very soul. He did not want to take this mans life, nor did he wish to let him live and go against his fathers wishes, yet deep down, he felt something was wrong. Something was not how it should be, that something had been changed, not just in the world but in him.  
  
Until a few months ago, Legolas would have never known that he could feel such hate and anger to anything but Orcs, let alone a human. Sure he did not like them, but it was not of the fiery rage that forced its way to the surface like it did now. But this man had taken from him a friend, someone that he valued above his own life, and for that Thranduil had bid Legolas gain revenge, not just for himself, but for all the Elves.  
  
What had followed then was month after month of tracking the fleeing mortal half way across Middle-Earth, only to have him turn around and head right back.  
  
He had finally caught up with his prey in Bree, but when a rather large brawl broke out in The Prancing Pony, somehow the dark-haired man had given him the slip and once again headed off into the wild.  
  
For a human, he was well skilled in bush survival and in the ways of the land, which at first did surprise Legolas, but he soon found the reason for this talents. As it turned out, the man was a ranger, one of the few Men that the Elves had any contact with whatsoever. All this new found information did was to confuse Legolas further as why would a ranger have the need or want to kill an immortal? They were one of the few humans that saw the beauty in the world, had other ideas of living their mortal lives then just for the purpose of gaining power and wealth. And above all, they still saw their mortality as a gift, the way Ilúvartar had intended.  
  
To Legolas, this title automatically called for respect, and yet here he was, stalking the man in order to kill him for the wrongs that he had committed.  
  
When the ranger had left Bree and headed right for Rivendell, Legolas had feared the worst, but instead of the man sneaking in and killing yet another, he was welcomed gleefully by Lord Elrond and the other elves, as if he had lived there all his life. Yet another confusing twist to add to the list of doubts that were ever growing in Legolas's mind.  
  
But now here he was, sitting in the man's room, ready to do what his father bid him do three months ago.  
  
It had taken all of the Elf's skill to sneak into Rivendell. He hated the fact of having to be so secretive, but he knew that if his presence was known than there would be feasts and welcomes, and the man would be warned of his arrival, thus giving him the chance to escape him again. This he could not let happen, so instead, he snuck in between the guard shifts.  
  
Rivendell's defenses were some of the best, but years of treading lightly and staying out of sight of the fell beasts that now roamed Mirkwood had taught the crowned prince a thing or two about being cunning and silent, beyond even that of a normal Elf's ability.  
  
As he sat there, watching the sleeping person and reminiscing about the time he had passed tracking him, his doubts increased. Something really felt wrong, but he could not quite put his finger on what it was.  
  
Finally, with a lot of careful consideration, he made up his mind to leave, to slip out as silently and quickly as he had come and forget about this whole unpleasant experience.  
  
Pulling his feet from the bed, he stood up gracefully and walked to the door. Reaching down for the door handle, he took it in his grasp, and that's when he heard it.  
  
A scream.  
  
A terror filled scream that pierced his heart. That scream had followed him, had been there whenever he had the time to take note of it. It drowned out the sound of the morning birds chirping as they woke, hid the bubbling of streams and rose above the voices of crowded rooms.  
  
It belonged to a dying immortal. His friend, pierced through the heart by an arrow as he lay there in Legolas's arms, fear in his eyes as his soul slipped away, leaving the body far behind. With this scream came the realization that he could not leave, he had to finish what he started, not for himself, but for his friend.  
  
Swiftly turning back to face the bed, he stalked over to the open netted side. Reaching down into his boot he pulled out a short dagger forged of silver and gripped it tightly in his right hand. The curtains blew in the background, allowing a sliver of moonlight to come streaming into the room, illuminating the face of the sleeping man and glittering off the tip of the dagger.  
  
Legolas ignored what he saw as an attempt to sway his mind, and lifted the dagger higher, aiming it to plunge into the mans heart. But what came next was something that within all his planning he could not have guessed to happen.  
  
Another scream filed his ears; the only difference was that this one was here in the room with him, not being played in his head.  
  
Spinning around to face the door he saw a young Elven maiden standing at the now opened door. Legolas realized that he must have been so caught up in what he was doing that he had not heard the door open or the entrance of the young woman. What she was doing here he had no clue to, but before he could try to speak to her, she slammed the door shut and called again for the guards.  
  
The man in the bed was slowly and groggily coming too, taking his time in opening his eyes and Legolas was at least thankful for that blessing on this horrible night.  
  
Legolas could hear the guards' footsteps running down the hall and knew that things had gone really bad. Looking wildly around him, he saw only two options. One was the window, but he knew that he had only moments before the guards would arrive and he would never make it, no matter how fast he was. The other was more dangerous and even irrational, but there was really nothing else he could do.  
  
Making up his mind to go with the latter idea, he quickly whirled into action just as the door flew open for a second time.  
  
*****  
  
Tbc…  
  
Ok, so I'm evil, deal!  
  
Hope you liked that. I thought it would be cool to do something about when they met, but it has been done so many times before, so I though I'd add a little bit of Minka weirdisum and see what I could come up with – this was it. And it will get a bit weirder and a hell of a lot darker and touch on a hate rarely seen.  
  
Please review – you now it makes me happy!  
  
Minka Rain Greenleaf. 


	2. Confusion

Ok, this turned out REALLY OFF TRACK!!! I had this great master plan, and then, poof, it was gone and this happened. But, not, it has turned into what could be slash (what the fuck is wrong with me??) and probably will be in chapters to come.  
  
Now, at the end I know the hate is not there, but next chapter it will come back (at least one sided) and then that will happen which will be followed by that and then that and then all of you will hate that person. You follow? Good. So you see, I have kept it kinda the same, or it will get back to the main 'master plan' as soon as possible. So don't fear, this will not be like all, 'they meet, they becomes friends yada yada yada crap crap crap.'  
  
Ok, umm, I do not own the filing cabinet, the printer, or the fax. I am glad I don't own the van, but sadly I own Lord of the Rings only in my dreams. I mean, seriously, if I did own Lord of the Rings, why the hell would I be pairing Legolas off with Aragorn - I mean, me here! Not to mention the fact that I would not be writing this crap for you people to read a I would be selfish and keep it all to myself! *evil grin*  
  
*****  
  
The Blood of Revenge Part Two Confusion.  
  
*****  
  
  
  
With only seconds to act, Legolas took the only option that had presented itself as well as providing any hope of survival.  
  
As the man in the bed slowly came to his senses, he was soon aware of two hands gripping his shoulders firmly and hauling him to his feet. He heard the rushed footsteps of what he could only guess were the guards and then two things, the door bursting open and the cold feel of a blade pressed to his throat.  
  
Legolas stood there, a mask of indifference on his face showing no emotion at all. He fought hard to keep his hand holding the blade from shaking, and even harder to hold the fast awakening man to him, pinning his arms by his sides.  
  
The prince of Mirkwood watched as the guards poured into the room, their faces showing the shock that he himself shared. He still had no real wish to kill this human, yet at the same time he did. It was as if his mind were clouded with a thick fog, one that could not be chased away by light and a steady wind.  
  
He felt alone, lost even, as he stood there, faced with a dozen armed Rivendell guards. He could safely and truthfully say that he had never felt so confused in his life. He had no clue as to what to do now, especially as he had already made his supposed intentions clear to those standing in the room. They thought that he was going to kill the man even though he did not really want to. Yet he was standing there, with a dagger pressed to the man's throat, holding him captive in the human's very room as the guards looked upon him as if he were a killer. But he wasn't - or was he? Would he really do it?  
  
So far, the man in his grasp had not even moved let alone made a sound and Legolas could not decide if that was a good or a bad thing. Legolas felt as if he didn't know anything at the moment, he barely even recognised himself anymore.  
  
When one of the guards finally spoke, it was as if he truly was hearing it through a fog or from under the surface of the water. It was quiet, muffled and distant even though he stood only a few feet away from the speaker. Legolas quickly shook his head in an attempt to clear it and to bring himself back to the present moment, yet all he succeeded in doing was making himself fell sick and dizzy.  
  
Mustering all his concentration he focused on the guard in front of him, and slowly the words came into focus and made remote sense in his mind.  
  
"Let him go and step to the side," the guard repeated for what Legolas thought was the second time - or was it the first. Everything was happening to fast for him to think clearly and yet one thing was blindingly obvious; he had to get out.  
  
Acting solely on instinct, he pulled the man closer and started to force him to move backwards with him by pressing the blade closer to the exposed flesh of the neck. The man got the idea and followed him with only a moment's hesitation.  
  
Legolas knew this situation was fast turning from bad to worse and felt himself almost pitting the man he dragged with him. The guards called out to him again to stop and let the man go, but Legolas knew better of that.  
  
One of the other guards turned his attention from Legolas to the man in his grip, "Estel, do you know this Elf?" he asked of the man.  
  
"Nay, I know him not," the man Legolas now knew as Estel replied through clenched teeth. For some reason this thought disturbed Legolas even more. It was not only the fact that he had been stalking this man for months and was now ready to kill him, but more the fact that he did not even know his name. He was holding a dagger to the throat of a living thing and did not even know its name until now. Somehow, with this and the fact that the man did not claim to know him either made this situation seem all the more wrong and Legolas knew that he had made a mistake - or had he?  
  
The thoughts raced through his head so fast that all he wanted to do was to clutch at it, to make it stop, to drop everything and just make this pain in his head stop. It was so intense, the pain so strong that he soon realised that his vision was slightly blurry and that his breaths were coming in quick, short gasps.  
  
"This is your last chance," the head guard warned, "let him go and come peacefully, or we will have to resolve this with force."  
  
For a split second, Legolas felt as if he should do that, that somehow if he co-operated all this would be worked out and the pounding in his head would cease. But no, it wouldn't. He would be taken away and locked up, in a small room away from nature and peace. No one knew him here, no one would be able to confirm his identity and, for some reason, he felt as if his father would not come for him. Not even Lord Elrond would know him, and he mentally cursed himself for always making a point of avoiding any meetings of the Elven Lords.  
  
Pulling the man further back while still using his body as a shield he voiced his answer, "No." It sounded weak, tired and containing no strength whatsoever, even to him.  
  
Backing up, having no idea what he was to do now, Legolas' foot caught on something, knocking him off balance. He and the man Estel fell backwards, landing on the soft bed in the centre of the room.  
  
As Estel felt the Elf holding him fall backwards, he panicked and did the only thing possible, he threw himself back upon the Elf hard, to both help the Elf fall and to avoid the deadly side of the dagger.  
  
Legolas groaned as he was trapped between the bed and the weight of the man on top of him. His head was spinning faster now and his body seemed somewhat unable to obey him. Fighting for control of himself, he pushed as hard as he could at the man laying on him, until he could just feel the floor beneath his booted feet.  
  
Luckily, the dagger had remained in place against the man's throat so he offered little to no resistance, and the guards were somewhat unwilling to endanger the life of their captured friend.  
  
The entire act of getting back to his feet was rather hard for Legolas, especially with the burden of Estel to try and manoeuvre at the same time. But slowly he managed to get them both to their feet and once again took up his slow retreat, hoping against hope that he would be able to reach the window.  
  
With each step he took, the guards took a step after him, their bows noticed and waiting for an opening to shoot at. It was rather lucky that the ranger was tall and well built or too much of Legolas may have been exposed, but his slender frame fit behind the man well, exposing only the top of his head. And thankfully, he knew that the Elves would not wish to kill him before they got some answers.  
  
The prince's tunic was suddenly lifted slightly as a cool breeze filled it, proving that he was indeed close to the window. A lightening quick glance to his right confirmed that, and told him it was only a matter of steps to what could mean freedom - at least on some level as he still had the matter of what to do with the man known as Estel. But he would worry about that later.  
  
The thin silvery sherfon curtains blew around the Elf and his captive while the moon shone brightly on them both, making them look as if they were both something out of this world. Each pace seemed to make Legolas's head spin more, but he was faintly aware of the sent the breeze carried. It was the soft perfume of lavender accented by the normal smells of any forest. In all this confusion and even fear, these seemed to be at least two things that had not changed in some way.  
  
At last his foot slid over the join in the floor and the floor of the outside balcony. While this proved to be good in some ways, it also aroused new problems. How was he to get off over the railing while still using his captive as a shield? Before he could think more on the subject at hand, he heard the lead guard speak again.  
  
"You have nowhere to go, Elf," he almost screamed at Legolas, "now give it up!"  
  
For some reason, Legolas felt himself answering the guard, though what good it was to do him he knew not. "You know as well as I that I can not surrender now." He was relieved that his voice had regained it strength and no longer sounded like he would choke on his own words.  
  
"Yes you can," said a voice, and Legolas soon realised that it was that which belonged to Estel. "You can still walk away from this." He tried to convince Legolas.  
  
To Legolas' surprise, as well as that of the guards, he found himself laughing, "You have to be kidding me," he managed to say through an almost insane laughter, "how daft do you think I am. There is only one way out of this, and you and I alike both know what it -" his sentence was cut short by a sudden cry that escaped his lips. The rushing of emotions in his head intensified and his vision blurred yet again. For the second time he wanted to hold his aching head, to squeeze it between his palms until the pain was pushed out.  
  
Legolas was faintly aware that the man in his grasp had dared to turn his head and look at him the best he could, and when Legolas' eyes met the dark grey ones of the man's, he could have sworn that he saw the faint traces of concern in them.  
  
The guards had stopped their advancement to stare the Elf, who was now showing the signs of the agony he felt clearly on his face. Never before had they seen such a thing and, in their eyes, it made Legolas all the more dangerous.  
  
Legolas, now hyperventilating and shaking, let his grip on the human slack a little. Slowly, giving in to the urge, the arm that was holding the man to him let go completely and travelled to the side of his head, pressing hard into his temple.  
  
That was all it took, that one little moment of weakness was the thing that could prove his downfall.  
  
Estel stepped away only a little, not sure whether to hate the Elf that stood in front of him, or to try and help him. It was the first good look at his would be captor or killer that he had had, and he was rather pleasantly surprised. All the while he had been in his grip, he had, for some reason pictured the face above his to be scared and rugged, unlike that of any Elf he had ever seen. But that was just a stereotype that he had picked up along his travels, that the cruel and evil ones always looked ugly, like an Orc. And yet this Elf was far from it.  
  
Even in his pain, Legolas was strangely compelling. His skin was silky and smooth, the colour of cream. His hair was well cared for and hung past his shoulders in a cascade of golden-blond. He was tall and slender, yet he was stronger then he looked - much stronger - and as he stood there, one hand pressed to his head, the other holding the dagger by his side, he seemed almost feline in his posture.  
  
Legolas was hardly aware that the ranger that he had hunted for so long had pulled himself free of his grip. His world had shrunk to consist of only two things, him and his pain, yet he was somewhat unsure if even he was anywhere to be found in this world of agony. He still continued to stumble blindly backwards, trying to get away from what was unknown, and slowly, the small of his back came in contact with the smooth stone railing.  
  
The guards were at a loss as to what to do. This crazed Elf had tried to kill or kidnap one of their own, and yet looking at him now, in all his pain, he seemed weak and unable to hurt a fly. But he had attempted murder - or what they thought should be considered murder.  
  
The lead guard looked to Estel for council, still unsure what to do with the now wailing Elf leaning hard against the stone railing. "Estel, how do you fare?" he asked, his voice slightly shaken at the scene that had just unfolded before him.  
  
"I'm fine, Coravil," Estel sighed while still watching the tall blond Elf before him. For some reason he did not want to see this Elf hurt, he did not fathom why, but it was just something about the way he stood there, so vulnerable.  
  
"Sir," one of the younger guards questioned him, "What are we to do with him?" he asked while indicating to Legolas who had now dropped his dagger and was holding his head in both hands. His eyes were squeezed tight and a small trickle of blood ran down his chin from where he had bitten into his bottom lip.  
  
Estel took a slow step to where Legolas stood, while answering softly that he didn't know. The still nameless Elf stood there shaking uncontrollably and, as far as Estel knew, unaware of his approach.  
  
Legolas felt as if an axe had cleaved his skull and if he were to move it, it would surely come loose from his shoulders. He had long bitten into his lip to silence the cries that threatened to force their way up his dry and cracked throat and was well aware of the metallic taste of his own blood slipping warmly down his chin and into his mouth. It was unlike anything he had ever experienced before, or even seen in another Elf, and this alone worried him more than he cared to admit to himself.  
  
Then, faintly, he heard the unmistakable sound of a footstep coming towards him. With a sickly feeling he remembered where he was and all that had just taken place. He wanted out. Wanted to be free of this horrible place in which he had no control.  
  
It was this thought alone that made him move. As yet another footstep fell, this time right next to him, his head snapped up and he dropped his arms to his side. Looking wildly around him, he saw that it was the human Estel that had approached him. Briefly, he wondered why the man had come so close to him, especially as he had tried - or had he really? - to kill him only moments before.  
  
Then before he had time to consider this any more, his sensitive ears picked up on the sound of an arrow being released right at him.  
  
The youngest guard, having seen Legolas suddenly come to life in actions, panicked and let his arrow fly straight towards the heart of the stranger. Coravil quickly pushed the youngster down, but was not quick enough to stop the already flying arrow, and he, as well as the other guards were forced to watch on in terror and utter helplessness.  
  
Estel, it seemed, had also heard the soft sound, and, seeing that the dazed Elf had no time to react to dodge the flying shaft, threw himself towards the Elf. He did not know why he felt compelled to do such a thing, especially to this unknown would-be murderer, but something in the hasty reaction felt right.  
  
And so, both man and Elf went crashing over the stone railing and sprawling onto the dew damp grass beneath, but not before the tip of the arrow embedded itself in Estel's right shoulder.  
  
As Legolas landed the wind was knocked right out of him and the extra weight of the human did nothing to make the impact less painful. The prince knew not why this human had helped him, or what really had happened on the balcony, but he was thankful nonetheless.  
  
It wasn't until the human groaned and tried to push himself off the slender Elf that Legolas realised that the arrow had struck his saviour. Guilt rushed through him until he remembered that just a few minutes ago he was about to kill the man while he slept. His head had still hadn't stopped pounding, and he now felt the tugging in his stomach warning him that he was about to vomit.  
  
By now most of the guards were jumping off the balcony to see what had befallen their friend and his captor, and were helping a rather dazed Estel to his feet. A pair of hands reached down towards Legolas, who, with as much strength he could manage, pushed them away ere rolling onto his side, and heaving violently.  
  
It was only the second time in his life that he had ever been sick, and already he had resolved that he did not like the feeling at all. The first time was when he had found his dead mother after she was in the clutches of the Orcs for a number of days, and even now as he retched, flashes of her bruised and bloody face appeared before his closed eyes. It seemed that no matter how hard he tried, he could not purge the memories from his mind and that they would always follow him, no matter where he went.  
  
None of the guards made a move to the Elf's side and for some reason that angered Estel more than anything. Shoving Coravil's supporting arms off him, he stumbled somewhat ungracefully to where the blond Elf lay still vomiting. Not completely knowing what to do or why he was doing it, he simply placed his hand reassuringly on the Elf's back while holding his silky hair out of his face.  
  
As Legolas continued to retch, Estel slowly started to whisper words of encouragement into his ear, much to his own confusion as well as the guards that just stood watching from nearby.  
  
After some time it seemed that Legolas had nothing more in his stomach to empty and he just lay there, his body shaking gently. He was aware of the hand on his back, and the hand that now stroked his hair were once it was holding it from his face, yet he made no move to be released from the touch. Even when, to his surprise, the man pulled his head into his chest and cradled him while still muttering things so soft that even Legolas could not make them out.  
  
At this, the guards exchanged baffled glances, not quite sure what had transpired between the two on the ground. And so they stood and merely watched, utterly fanaticised at the turn of emotions between the two strangers.  
  
No one knew how long they stayed there, it could have been just minuted or it could have been hours, but when a clear and regal voice cut through the quiet sobs and hushed whispers, all eyes, including Estel's turned to the sound.  
  
"Would one of you care to explain to me just what in Valar's name is going on here?" Lord Elrond asked while casting his gaze to the blond Elf in his foster son's arms and the arrow that still penetrated from Estel's shoulder.  
  
Estel looked up at the Lord flanked by his twin sons, Elladan and Elrohir, with a look that a child in trouble would give to his parents who were about to scold him.  
  
Finally, at Elrond's expecting sigh, Estel found the words that had fleeted him as soon as the three had appeared. "I can expl - " looking down at the now sleeping blond Elf who still shook spasmodically in his arms, he changed his mind. Shaking his head he corrected himself, knowing that he sounded as confused as he really was, "I can not explain a thing."  
  
*****  
  
Tbc.  
  
There you go, yet another chapter of yet another story. Aren't you people getting sick of me yet?? Seriously I don't think that I have held people's interest and attention for so long in my life. Normally they get bored with me - or is that cause I just tell them to get lost and to 'blow me' - should work on my personally and social skills huh?  
  
Ok, well as always, please review and let me know what you all think.  
  
*Takes a bow*  
  
Minka Rain Greenleaf 


	3. Blurry.

Legolas: you know what, Aragorn? I think she is getting weirder! Aragorn: is that even possible? Legolas: well did you read this chapter? I think it is clearly shown that it is! Aragorn: oh crap, she is coming back. Act nice. *both show really fake smiles*  
  
Ok, I finally updated!! Yay! Umm, this story is kinda not what it was meant to be, but then again, are not all my stories like that? What I mean is, I have been sick for like ages and have kinda unintentionally turned this chapter kinda funny - especially Elrohir. It was the result of not talking to anyone in days as well as the loss of my voice so it kind of just happened. The little Legolas bit near the end is like how I feel at the moment, and the twins' bit was me trying to rationalize things in my own head. Next chapter is planned out (thought I ALWAYS change them) and will try to get back to the more serious side of things and the whole "I hate you," thing that is *meant* to be happening.  
  
Anyway, I hope you all enjoy this anyway.  
  
*****  
  
Blurry.  
  
*****  
  
Elrond's eyebrows arched at the weak and unexplained words of his foster son. To say that this situation had startled him was an understatement as it was just too confusing to even contemplate. Who this blond Elf was he had no idea and why Estel had an arrow in his should was also a worrying thought.  
  
Turning to Coravil he openly displayed his confusion, and at the look that the guard gave him in reply it looked as if he knew no better.  
  
"My Lord," Coravil began somewhat shakily, "this Elf," he motioned to the sleeping blond, "tried to kill young Estel." As soon as the words had escaped his lips he felt a fool. Looking at the scene that was before him, he would not blame the lord if he called him a lair for surely, no one who had just had their life threatened would be holding the attempted murderer in their arms, rocking him to sleep.  
  
Lord Elrond also looked to the two figures on the ground. The blond Elf looked as if he could not hurt a fly - especially in his current state - and Estel looked as if the Elf he was holding was a precious possession. "Are you telling me that this shaking Elf Estel is currently holding is the reason he has an arrow in his shoulder?" the Lord sounded as if he were about to laugh at such a preposterous idea.  
  
"No, my Lord, that would be me," the younger guard said, stepping forward with his eyes to the ground.  
  
"You shot Estel, Therion?" Elrohir choked out, half out of shock and half out of the need to conceal his laughter.  
  
"I panicked," was all he said in reply to the elder Elf.  
  
"So you shot him?" Elrohir asked before his father could.  
  
"I was aiming for the Elf," Therion muttered, his eyes still fixated on the ground, "but Estel knocked him out of the way."  
  
All eyes turned to Estel who was still on the ground and the young man had to force himself not to wave silly at them. Even to him all that had transpired this night seemed weird and he almost pitied his father and elder brothers. It was hard enough for him to understand let alone for someone who had not seen the happening to fathom. All he knew was that he did not want the Elf that he held to be killed but he did not even know why.  
  
Throughout the entire conversation he had just sat there and rocked the now sleeping Elf backwards and forwards, stroking his hair reassuringly. Again he was overcome with the strong desire to protect the blond Elf and make sure that he was not harmed. None of it made sense, this Elf had tried to kill him and yet here he was, not wanting to let him go. All he could conclude was that he must have been going mad and the full impact of the loss of sanity had just hit him as the process of loosing his wits and his ability to think straight had sped up within the last half an hour.  
  
"Why, prey tell," Elladan began while slowly approaching Estel as if he were a rabid warg, "did you knock him out of the way?"  
  
Estel looked up at his elder brother with an innocent smile plastered upon his face. Elladan, Elrohir and himself got along well and they were the perfect brothers. Estel could remember when he was but a child brought to the house of the Lord Elrond and how scared he had been. He had expected the elder Elves and sons' of the lord to shun him for his humanity, but they did quite the opposite; they took in with open arms and, although they tried to hide it, were very protective of their human brother. The three were inseparable, always getting into some mess or another and Estel soon found that both twins shared the same light-hearted, easygoing sense of humor as he himself did.  
  
Elrohir was the one that would laugh at anything and once he was started he could not stop to save his life, while Elladan was more likely to hide is amusement and have only his eyes lit with silent chuckles. Again, Elrohir being the youngest, even only by a matter of minutes was more of the trouble maker of the two, the trickster, but Elladan always found himself going along with whatever little plan his younger brother had and both would take Estel along for the ride.  
  
It amazed Estel to no ends at just how alike they were and yet how different. Elladan was more in control of himself while Elrohir was more the free spirit of the two and did not care what others thought of him. Elladan was much more conscious that he had a duty to fulfill and had to be guarding of his manner in others' presence. Yet once he was alone with both Elrohir and Estel, he was the exact same as his brother.  
  
Also, while they almost always agreed with each other, the twins would always take different sides when Estel was concerned. Elladan was more inclined to side with Elrond - whether it be out of duty or he truly did believe that what the lord said was always right - while Elrohir would side with Estel, lending his support in any debate that arose.  
  
Even now, when Elladan looked down upon him, Estel could see the humor in the Elf's eyes, and 'twas easy to see that Elrohir was almost on the verge of tears from holding in his laughter. 'Twas this and this alone that helped Estel find the words that he was searching for, though not really knowing what to say.  
  
"It seemed like the right thing to do?" he asked more that said. He was still not clear on the situation himself and it was fast becoming stranger. He was aware that even while he spoke and looked upon his adopted family he was still stroking the blond haired Elf's hair and had sub-consciously moved him into a sitting position in his lap so he could more easily lean the Elf's head on his shoulder.  
  
At this Elladan smirked and out of the corner of his eye, Estel could see Elrohir start to bite on his thumbnail in order to silence himself. Elrond, on the other hand, looked less than pleased yet he said no more, patiently awaiting Estel to say something more on the situation at hand.  
  
"I," Estel managed to slowly say ere biting down on his lip. How could he tell the people watching that he wanted to protect this Elf? That he wanted to continue to hold him and get to know him? The entire idea was absurd and ridiculous.  
  
Elrond continued to look at his two sons that stood before him, and eventually his eyes fell on Legolas. The lord could hardly help the slight glare that he sent the blond, sleeping Elf and as Estel defiantly pulled Legolas further into his arms having noticed Elrond's harsh look, the lord almost regretted it.  
  
Finally a voice cut through the silence that hung heavily in the air, "this has gone on long enough," Elrond proclaimed ere waving his hand forward to tell the guards to separate Estel and the Elf. Both Coravil and Therion moved forward somewhat hesitantly, and were soon followed by another two of the guards. "Take the Elf to the holding cells and Estel to his room so I may attend his wound," Elrond concluded, being the first one out of all there to contrive a rational thought.  
  
At this statement and the advancement of the guards, Estel tightened his grip on the Elf and moved as best as he could to put himself between the guards and the unknown blond. "He can come with me," he stated firmly and was relieved to see the guards' stop in their tracks.  
  
"No he can not," Elrond contradicted and inclined his head to inform the guards to continue.  
  
Again Estel hugged the Elf as if he were a favorite toy of a child that a parent had threatened to take away. Having already concluded that he did not understand the entire situation he had only one thing that he knew that he did fathom, and that was that he did not want to let the Elf go any time soon.  
  
When a pair of hands came towards the Elf that he held, Estel angrily slapped them away ere putting both arms around the slender waist again and spitting out a harsh and pouty, "no."  
  
Therion looked at Coravil with an astonished look, who then looked to Elrond. Unbeknownst to those three, Elladan was looking on in confusion at Estel and his new behavior and Elrohir was bent over doubled with quiet laughter and watching the best that he could through one open eye.  
  
"Estel." Elrond said strongly while waving the guards' forward again. Therion and Coravil reached for the blond Elf for a second time only to be slapped away again.  
  
Sighing in frustration, Coravil sent a puzzled look at Elladan and then Elrond, conveniently overlooking the now almost hysterical Elrohir. "My lord?" he questioned, hoping that Elrond would know what to do.  
  
"Estel, let Coravil take him," Elrond said more sternly this time before sending an irritated glare at Elrohir who was now leaning against a tree.  
  
Never before had Elrohir seen Estel act this way, and something about the way his lips were pushed forward in a sulky manner was just hilarious. It was so unlike his human brother to be so protective or even possessive of anyone or anything, let alone someone who had only moments before tried to kill him. After the look shot his way form Elrond, and yet another received from Elladan, he slowly thought it best if he try to gain a hold of himself. Telling himself that this was a serious matter and that the Elf that Estel was still slapping hands away from was a would-be murderer, he lifted his shoulders and bit the insides of his cheeks in order not to smile, giving him the appearance of a fish.  
  
Almost hissing at Therion, Estel knew that this was starting to get ridiculous and that his father was right, the Elf should be taken to the holding cells. However, every time he had made up his mind to let the guards take him, he found himself instinctively lashing out time and time again, using one arm to continue to hold the Elf to his chest.  
  
It was like a repetitive game of cat and mouse; every time one of the guards came at him, he told himself that this had gone on long enough and that he would let the Elf go - so he would hit them away yet again.  
  
"Estel!" Elrond's voice commanded the attention that had been lost throughout the entire ordeal and all eyes, including Elrohir's, turned to him in shock at his angry tone. "Estel, this is not a game. This Elf tried to kill you and could quiet easily try again if we do not act before he awakes." Elrond's gaze again went to the sleeping Elf that was blissfully unaware of all that was transpiring around him, and his expression hardened even more. "Now let him go!"  
  
Estel half shrunk back at the dominant tone in the lord's voice but still did not let go. It was at this point that the first rational thought that he had experienced in a long time came to him, and, deciding that he had nothing to lose, he resolved to act upon it.  
  
Glaring harshly at the guards that stood near him and letting a slight growl pass his lips, he held the Elf close and prepared to put his plan into action. Estel was thoroughly pleased when the guards retreated a few steps, allowing him the leeway that he needed. Holding the Elf as tight as he could without crushing the thin creature, Estel leapt to his feet and swung the Elf up so that he had one arm under his knees and the other supporting his back. Pulling the Elf as close as possible he made to run away, but something stopped him.  
  
A small moan filled the air and suddenly all eyes turned to the being that he now carried in his arms. Glazed over blue eyes blinked then slowly cleared and looked up at him and Estel found himself smiling down at the one that he held. The eyes blinked again, and once more before staying open and transfixed upon Estel's.  
  
"Put me down," a soft voice said, causing all to lean in closer to hear it. Estel merely gazed back at the Elf and smiled again, pulling him as close to his chest as humanly possible, enjoying the feel of the Elf's silky hair upon his neck. His shoulder was paining slightly but he had long since decided that it was worth it to hold the Elf in such a manner.  
  
"I said put me down!" the blond repeated in a tone that was astonishingly harsh for his current weak appearance.  
  
Estel again felt the want to hold onto the Elf and that need to get to know him better. "What if I do not want to?" he asked teasingly while looking deep into the Elf's eyes.  
  
Something in the blue orbs flashed and for the first time since Estel had fully seen his to be killer he saw him as dangerous and not some pretty thing that should be patted on the head. Before he could even think more on the subject, a sharp pain in his right shoulder told him something was wrong.  
  
As the pain increased he heard a yelled protest from Elladan and an angry command form Elrond followed by a rather high-pitched scream that he knew unfortunately came from him. Looking down at the Elf in his arms, he saw that the Elf's eyes were wide and alert and almost shinning in pleasure while a twisted smile played at the corners of his mouth. One of the still nameless Elf's hands was around the back of Estel's back and he was slowly twisting the arrow in the wound and pushing it further in as he went.  
  
Estel's eyes' widened at the sadistic gleam in the blue depths as he continued to gasp out in pain and yet became fully aware that he had still not made any move to let the Elf go.  
  
"PUT ME DOWN!" the blond screamed at him ere pushing the arrow through even more. Finally Estel came to his senses and released the Elf, who dropped rather ungracefully to the ground.  
  
Looking frantically around him, Legolas assessed the trouble that he was in now. He did not have the slightest clue what had happened when he had been asleep but waking to find himself in the arms of the being that he had wanted to kill was just to peculiar - even for him to understand.  
  
As he watched the human's face twist in pain he again felt that tinge of guilt and wondered for a moment just what his problem was. Then he remembered, this man had killed his best friend, his teacher and his bodyguard. Shot through the heart with an arrow and left to die - forced to leave this world well before his time and this human had been the cause of all that, and had not even admitted to it. Instead he had fled and never looked back and then he had the audacity to be angry at him for trying to kill him.  
  
As two twin Elves, both dark-haired and grey-eyed started to approach him, Legolas decided that this would be the best time to make a run for it. Not even thinking twice, he turned and sent his fist into the face of one guard before kicking another in the stomach. As soon as that was accomplished, he fled from the clearing and into the thick trees that surrounded the Last Homely House, hearing the enraged shouts of the Lord trickle through the dense woods.  
  
Running as fast as his tired legs could carry him, he headed back in the direction of his belongings that he had left behind in order to be able to sneak in easier. Jumping over boulder after moss covered boulder and dodging the trees' branches the best he could, he soon came across the area that he had left his bags and horse in.  
  
His saddlebags remained on the forest floor where he had left them only a few hours ago and his horse was grazing over at the other end of the tiny clearing. Snatching up his gear, he sprinted over to the waiting white horse and threw the saddlebags over the back, strapping them to the simplistic saddle ere leaping up onto the horse and urging him onwards.  
  
For the first time since he had woken he gave a moment to think about what had happened. The attempting to leave, then the hostage situation, the strange pain in his head and then the human saving him. He could recall the human being the one to help him when he was sick and then holding him and whispering softly in Elven into his ear to get him to relax. Legolas relised that he must have fallen asleep in Estel's arms and when he had woken Estel was attempting to take him somewhere. Where he did not know, but something deep down told him that he had done the wrong thing. That he should have let the human live and that he should not have acted so harshly.  
  
As if it were the act of thought that spurred it on, the intense pain that had overcome him in the room returned threefold. Gasping in pain and squeezing his eyes shut, all he could do to stay on his horse and not hit the ground that rushed beneath him, and that even seemed too hard. Hugging to his horse's neck he lay his head down on the spot just below it's ears and shut his eyes, willing the pain to stop.  
  
Screams echoed in his head. Mixed screams of both Estel and Teltaur, his bane and his lost friend. The one he hurt and the one that was hurt by Legolas' victim. They repeated themselves over an over again, allowing Legolas not even a single moment's peace of mind. It was like the howling wind of a thunderstorm through the long, stone catacombs and dungeons of Mirkwood. Long and shrill. Always there and permitting no way to escape. It felt as if it tore at his pointed ears, that it pushed upon his eyes and blocked up his senses.  
  
Sinking even closer to his horse, Legolas found himself uncontrollably coughing and his entire body reeked in convulsions. Even hugging his horse's neck seemed a laborious task and was becoming harder and harder to continue to do. Tinnitus started to set in and Legolas felt as if he were surrounded by thousands on bells, all ringing madly and out of time yet through the loud commotion in his head he could still hear the screams and the anguish filled cries.  
  
As he continued to cough and urge his horse on, he was alarmed to taste a metallic substance on his tongue and as Legolas proceeded to be nauseated, he saw a thin trickle of glistening blood run down the white horses' neck. Feeling his head begin to spin anew, trepidation overcame him as he brought up even more blood from deep within his chest and saw the world blur beyond that that is was from moving.  
  
Pressing his eyes closed again, Legolas prayed to the Valar that it would end, but as yet another onslaught of choking and more blood followed he knew that it was pointless. Fighting to hold back the tears of pain that threatened to overflow, the prince of Mirkwood incited his horse on, forcing it to run at a cracking pace even though he knew that the animal could sense his plight. The only half-rational thought that came to Legolas through all the pain was to get as far away from Rivendell as possible.  
  
As he thought of leaving the Elven City far behind him the pain intensified and the blood that he coughed increased. Legolas could feel himself growing weaker by the second and each passing tremor that ran through his body threatened to knock him from his horse.  
  
Hope seemed lost to the prince as he realised that he could no longer even attempt to open his eyes. As he finally felt himself pass in to the blissful darkness of unconsciousness, the last thing that he was aware of was his horse rearing up slightly to allow the fallen prince to slide easily and gently to the ground.  
  
*****  
  
"Find him!" Lord Elrond half screamed at the guards that were standing there, wide-eyed and shocked. Elrond had made his way over to where Estel had collapsed and was attempting to stop the flow of blood that was leaving the wound. Elladan was attempting to calm Lord Elrond down before he yelled something that he should not as everyone knew that he was overly protective of Estel. Elrohir was torn between laughing and running after the blond Elf to drag him back to face the consequences of his actions.  
  
Deciding that it was too hard to chose, he opted for both. Chuckling lightly to himself he ran in the direction to the stables, calling out over his shoulder. "Settle down, father, I shall find him."  
  
At this both Elladan and Elrond exchanged horrified glances and looked to Estel who, despite all that had happened, was the calmest one of the lot.  
  
Elladan looked to his father again ere sprinting off in the same direction as his younger brother. "'Tis no comfort to me knowing that only he will search for him," he yelled back at his father who shook his head in a sign of hopelessness.  
  
Estel thought it only fitting that he should aid his brothers in their search and tried to get to his feet but a pair of restricting arms held him back to the ground. "You are not going anywhere till we get this arrow out and the wound healed," Elrond informed him sternly.  
  
Looking desperately over his shoulder at the fleeting forms of his Elven brothers', Estel gulped. This was not good. Not only was he in trouble with Elrond, but the other two people that were protective of him were after the Elf that had hurt him, and they would be as relentless as usual. "Do not hurt him," he yelled at the twins' backs.  
  
Turning back to Elrond, he was just in time to catch the lord roll his eyes in frustration. If the entire situation had been thought confusing before, Estel had now decided that it was even worse. Normally Elrond was the one to insist that all people be given the benefit of the doubt and aid that they might need, and to Estel it was clearly obvious that this blond Elf needed help. It made no sense that Elrond would take an instant dislike to the being and would be so harsh with him, especially since it was another Elf.  
  
"Why do you hate him so much?" Estel finally asked of the lord who was assisting him to his feet.  
  
"I do not hate him," Elrond insisted while steadying Estel and slowly walking back to the main entrance of the large house. "I just do not know him, and neither do you. I would advise you to stay away from him when they find him but I know that you will not heed my words."  
  
"Of course I would not," Estel replied with a smile, "what kind of son would I be if I listened to everything that you said?" both laughed but any more conversation was cut short by the sound of running feet. It appeared that one of the guards had alerted the healers of the current situation and they had come to lend their support.  
  
*****  
  
Elladan and Elrohir raced through the woods on their horses, trying to find any sign of the passing of the escaped Elf.  
  
"He may not have even come this way, Elladan," Elrohir insisted as he slowed his horse down to a trot. "I have yet to see any trace of him and I still say that he would have headed west from the clearing."  
  
Elladan shot his brother an inquisitive look ere returning his gaze back to the forest. "Why do you say west?"  
  
Elrohir looked down at his horses black mane and thought a moment before replying. "I do not rightfully know. I guess it is just what I would have done if I were in such a position." Truthfully he had no idea why he had chosen west over their current path of east but it seemed like the smart thing to do.  
  
"But he headed east from the clearing," Elladan reminded his brother while looking around him, still hoping to find any sign of the Elf. He and Elrohir were the two best trackers in Rivendell and the thought of them loosing their prey was a devastating one and something that they would never live down if word got out.  
  
"Indeed he may have," Elrohir agreed, "but, to successfully get into Rivendell unnoticed he would have had to cut in through the Hithaeglir as it is the one side that is not thoroughly guarded. Also, he is an Elf, he would have known about the path over the mountains and used it to his advantage." Stopping to look at his brother he saw that Elladan was seriously considering all that he had said and Elrohir was grateful for that. Knowing that he was on to something, but just not knowing what, he continued. "Also, by the greens of his clothing it is obvious that he hailed from Mirkwood, thus giving him a better pass from his home into ours."  
  
"I do see what you mean, Elrohir," Elladan said thoughtfully, "but then should he not go back this way in order to get home quicker?"  
  
"Aye, but not if he were fleeing from someone." Elrohir thought out loud. "He would have relised that we would note the way in which he ran away and possible even been aware enough to know that we would be able to tell his attire from any other Elven land. Why lead us straight back to his only safe place, to his home?" Stopping again to think of what he was saying, Elrohir bit his bottom lip while glancing let to right. "Now, suppose if you were being followed for something like this, would you not want to lead your pursuers' in the wrong direction?  
  
"What if he simply went east to reclaim his belongings and probably his horse? Where then would you go?" Elrohir asked of his brother, hoping the he would be able to find something logical in his ravings.  
  
Elladan though on this for a moment while putting himself in the place of the fleeing Elf. While it seemed logical to go over the mountain pass and back to Mirkwood, it also seemed too easy and predictable. "If I were him," Elladan started, thinking as much as a fugitive as he could, "I would not lead anyone back to my home. I would-"  
  
He was cut off by Elrohir ending the thought for him. "You would, once being in possessions of any incriminating belongings such as a horse and bags, go in the other direction, specifically the opposite one to which your pursuers' saw you run - even if it meant heading away from your destination."  
  
"But surely you can not mean to say that he would go all the way to the ford and then down to the gap of Rohan just to get back to Mirkwood?"  
  
"If it meant the difference between staying free and alive from being caught, then yes, I would go that way. It may take longer, but no one in their right mind would think to look for me that way."  
  
Not realising what he had said, Elrohir was surprised when Elladan shot him a worried glance. "So you are expecting me to believe an Elf who has just confessed to the fact that if anyone thought of such a route, they would not be in their right mind?"  
  
"Ye-" realization came over Elrohir as his brother's words sunk in. Crinkling his brows in concern for his own well being, he bit his lip and tried not to laugh. "Well, yes, think of it as a crazy's intuition."  
  
Both looked at each other and wordlessly turned their horses in the opposite direction and rode at full speed towards the west.  
  
*****  
  
Tbc.  
  
Ok, that was it and your first real introduction to my other two favorite Elves - the twins. I am also working on another story featuring them, Legolas and Haldir before Aragorn was even born, so if anyone is interested let me know.  
  
Anyway, more importantly, while looking for a word in the dictionary, I found out what I am going to do with my life!!! Yay, go me! Well, I always wanted to do forensic science, but being the fact that I failed chemistry, I think that is kind of ruled out now. So, instead I am going to be a Thenatoligist! "What," you may ask, "is a Thenatoligist?" Well, a Thenatoligist is someone that specialises in Thenatology which is the study of death and dying and their associated phenomena and practices. Do you not all think that that sounds like me? It would be a blast and good basis for writing.  
  
Anyway, I am going off to start another chapter of another story now,  
  
Minka Rain Greenleaf - Australia's first Thenatoligist. 


	4. Stuck in the Middle

Ok, this is a rather short update, but I only just thought of it about half an hour ago, so I thought I would write it and it had a good point to cut off at where it ended - so that is why it is short. Did that make sense? *re-read* nope, ok, well, I couldn't be bothered to change it!  
  
Umm, I know that it had taken me ages to update, and for that I do apologize. I got so caught up in Shadows Within that I almost forgot that I had others stories and then *bang* I was stuck in the middle of exams and trying to pass my grade! Lol, but I am back now - as you can see.  
  
Umm, as you all know, I have problems, and I kinda made some of this sorta funny. I mean, it is not laugh your ass off stuff, but it is humorous in itself. The thing is, this is meant to be a dark story, but hey, what can ya do? Oh, and I don't know why Elrohir gets itchy behind the ears when he gets nervous, but he just does! You got that? Lol.  
  
I also hope that you will consider reading my new story The Eaters of the Dead as I am rather proud of that one.  
  
Umm, ok, thank you to everyone that has reviewed! I feel very loved and I only hope that I will be able to get you more chapters very soon.  
  
Bluetiful - I have often wondered about that myself. *looks at self in the mirror* no pointed ears so I guess Elven is out, too tall so I am not a Hobbit, *sigh* guess I might have to be human after all. LOL.  
  
Ihni - I am glad that you like my stories, but the chances of me finishing something before I start another is very slim. I mean, I will finish all my stories - it will just take time. I seem to have a touch of A.D.D. and for that reason I find it completely impossible to concentrate on one plot line for too long a time. I get bored easily, and if another idea sounds better then what I am going, then I will always go for the new concept. It is just the way I am, I am sorry.  
  
Vana - yes, he is always coughing u blood - but it is fun to write. And I must say, there is another cliffhanger this chapter!  
  
LittleSpacedemon - all in due time, my friend, all in due time.  
  
Fei Jiao - hope this finds you alive and well.  
  
Again, a very big thank you to all of you who I did not personally thank - please d not feel that I over looked you - it is just that if I replied to everyone it would be longer then the chapter as it is really short! Lol. THANK YOU.  
  
I'm sorry!!!!! I didn't want to kill it, I really didn't, but there was no other real brave way to do what I wanted. I am sorry!  
  
*****  
  
The Blood of Revenge.  
  
Chapter Four (I think - lol!)  
  
Stuck in the Middle.  
  
*****  
  
Estel hissed in pain as the arrow was pulled back through its entering passage of his shoulder. To his credit, it took two other Elves to hold him down during the process so not to buck and cause himself more pain, or injure Elrond in the process.  
  
Truth be told, as strange as it may seem, he had kind of liked having the arrow sticking out of him as it made him feel more of a warrior. He had never been allowed to even help the warriors of Rivendell to earlier this year, and even then his dealings in the way of hunting were limited.  
  
That was the reason that Elrond had sent Estel along to Mirkwood, to give him a purpose and something important to do and yet not endanger the important youth. It had been a task that Estel had readily accepted and he was rather excited at the prospect of going to visit a different division of the Elves that he loved so much. So it was with high spirits that he set out for the large wood to the north, imagining all the fun times that he could have.  
  
He had long since heard of Legolas, the only prince of the woods of Mirkwood, and he had looked forward to meeting him most of all. So, it was with much disappointment that he arrived there to find the prince 'otherwise engaged' and was unable to even get a glimpse of the rumored beauty.  
  
After his brief stay - which he cut short due to the lack of conversation - he set off on a little 'sightseeing trip around Middle-Earth' as the put it to Elrond who had been worried about his long absence. He had only returned last night, curled up in his bed to have a comfortable sleep, and now - well let's just say that things had a way of turning out rather strange in a short amount of time.  
  
Hissing in pain as Elrond bound up the wound; Estel looked out the large window - ok, it was more of a non-wall - wondering where the blond archer was and hoping that his foster brothers would be gentle with the being when they found him. There was nothing that he would have liked more that to go search for the Elf himself, but he knew that Elrond would never allow it and he was not in mind to annoy the elder Elf for the second time in two days.  
  
So, knowing that he would have to rely on the twins to find the one that he - strangely enough - wanted to hold again, he made a point of looking intently out of the window in hopes of catching a glimpse of what was happening in the outside world.  
  
*****  
  
A loud footfall made a soft naying sound came from the horses' lips as it stood over its fallen master. Backing up slightly, the horse made sure to place its body between the sound in the forest and its master, and stood its ground, waiting for the steps to get closer.  
  
As it waited, two things suddenly happened at once. One was a large amount of commotion came charging at it from the left and the other was something smaller and yet deadly came at it from the right.  
  
As it felt the shaft pierce its skin and its heart, it still stood over its master until its legs could no longer hold it. Even as if fell, it fell next to the blond Elf, and, laying its head upon the thin body, it prepared to die as the footsteps came ever closer.  
  
*****  
  
"You may have a crazy's intuition, Elrohir, but I am not seeing anything that would prove you right!" Elladan smirked at his twin who was looking left to right frantically.  
  
They had been on this path for near on an hour now, and it was with no luck that they kept searching. Nothing had turned up in evidence of the other Elf's passing and both were starting to get above frustrated. No one of anything had ever outsmarted them, or avoided being found by them, especially no psychotic Elf with a serious mental problem.  
  
"But there is no other way that he could have gone!" Elrohir protested against his brothers words. "If he had created his own trail we would have noticed it, no matter how well hidden it was, and there are no other paths in this remote direction. He *has* to have come this way!"  
  
"Insist all you like, little brother, but it will not change the past. It he has not come this way then there is no way in which to make him." Elladan replied with a look of wisdom in his eyes.  
  
"Quit with the indecipherable riddles and fake wisdom, Elladan." Elrohir scoffed at his brother who liked to appear wise and cryptic. Elrohir was almost certain that Elladan spent every second hanging on the words of Gandalf whenever the old wizard was in their presence, and it was starting to show in the way the older of the two spoke and acted - much to Elrohir annoyance. It was hard living with a brother that would never give a straight answer, even if his life depended on it. "This is neither the time nor the place."  
  
"Well, look whose all high and mighty!" Elladan jested with his brother, knowing that sooner or later Elrohir would crack and burst into laughter.  
  
"I am high and mighty and - VALAR!" Elrohir shouted out as he ducked an oncoming arrow aimed at his head. It was only through chance that he had sensed the shaft flying through the air and directly in line with his temple.  
  
Looking first quickly to the arrow, he saw it sticking out of a tree only a few feet away. The wood that was used to carve it was dark and twisted, black in colour and matching the feathers that adorned the thick shaft and aided it in flying.  
  
Looking quickly back in the direction that it had come, he saw a few laboring bodies through the trunks of the great trees of the borders of Rivendell. Hearing his brother already drawing his bow, Elrohir felt the need to state the obvious, "Orcs!"  
  
Fitting an arrow to the string, Elrohir glanced back at his brother. "Shall we?" he questioned, trying to keep a light heart in the situation.  
  
"Lead the way," Elladan replied with his own arrow fixed to the string that was braided out of his own hair.  
  
Spurring both of their horses on, Elrohir and Elladan made their way quickly through the trees in the direction of the Orcs that they had glimpsed. Crashing through the trees, each with their own war cries, the two identical Elves made ready to slay the foul beats that had dared to trespass on their fathers land.  
  
*****  
  
Waiting. It seemed like all that he ever did was wait.  
  
Sighing and running a hand through his unruly hair, Estel tapped his foot against the floor and the front right chair leg. He had been sitting there, staring out of the window in the direction that his brothers had made chase in for the last two hours now, and, quiet frankly, he was bored out of his mind.  
  
He had tried playing 'spot the hidden Elven guards in the trees' but that did not last long as, as he soon found out, the 'hidden Elves' were just that - hidden, and he could not even hope to be able to see them with his human eyes. The next game preference was to throw things at the Elves that passed under his room's window, but, since he had, at one stage or another, hit most of Rivendell's occupants they were already on to him and on a number of occasions he had had to bolt his door as the angry Elf came up threatening to teach him a lesson.  
  
And so he was degraded to just sitting there, tapping his foot and cleaning his nails with his small knife. Truth be told, he did not know why he even bothered - cleaning his nails that is - as they were forever dirty and every time - without fail - right after he had finished there was something that he would want to do that would get the dirt stuck so far under there that there was no hope in getting it out. The only real reason that he did it was because the cook insisted, especially when he offered to help out in the kitchens.  
  
Putting the knife down, Estel threw himself on his bed, immediately regretting it as pain shot up his shoulder. Letting out a loud and frustrated shout, he glared at the door like it was an Orc and made up his mind.  
  
No longer was he about to sit around here and do nothing. He had a blond archer to catch and learn everything about - provided that they could get over the "I want to kill you" thing on the blonds side, and to this Estel really held hope. He wanted to get to know this Elf, to know everything about him and his life - to be part of his life in fact.  
  
Grabbing a pack that he had thrown into the corner of his room, Estel pulled on a cloak with a hood and silently made his way to the door.  
  
Sneaking down the corridor - but still making enough noise to wake the dead - Estel made his way to his horse and, after a quick equipment check, rode out of the stables, hissing in pain at every bump but not having the sense to turn around.  
  
*****  
  
"Are you not going to stop him?" Coravil asked as he and Elrond stood there, watching the Lord's foster son attempt to sneak out yet only succeeding in making every Elf in the near area turn to look at him peculiarly.  
  
"There is no point! He listens to me about as much as everyone listened to me in the Second Age." Elrond sighed out while turning away from the window. "Anyway, he will not find any of the Elves - he has not the skill - or the patience to learn."  
  
Smiling broadly and turning to walk out of the room, Coravil could not help one last comment, "I almost pity the race of men then, if he is to be their savor!"  
  
Elrond narrowed his eyes slightly, but, after only a moment, he could not help but laugh at the others words. It was true, Estel was a troublesome child; always getting into mischief and never doing what was expected of him. They were all in for a bumpy ride if they were to get Estel to behave as he should, and, quite frankly, Elrond did not fancy himself being the one to have to do it. Better leave that to his two sons.  
  
*****  
  
Letting a thin shaft fly through the air and hit the first visible Orc in the throat, Elrohir smiled to himself as he saw the body crash to the ground.  
  
The twins were famous for their ruthlessness against the Orcs that had been the cause of their mother's departure from Middle-Earth many years ago. Since the day that they had stumbled upon her in a small, Orc infested cave they had hated the beasts with a fiery passion. Any that were seen in these lands were quickly extinguished by the twins and they often made it a habit to travel far and wide, killing as many as they could see and find in memory of their beloved mother.  
  
Riding through the trees, they suddenly came to a stop, both sensing that which the other did. The Orcs' could no longer be seen, but they could sense them, smell them in the air and feel the reaction the forest had to them.  
  
Glancing at each other again, it was too late that the twins realized their mistake.  
  
A cry sounded from their right and as they turned, they saw. . . nothing.  
  
Spinning back to the left, Elrohir was just in time to see an Orc making its way towards them silently. The Orcs' companion was obviously trying to trick the Elves into focusing their attention to the right instead of where the real danger lay.  
  
Quickly releasing an arrow, Elrohir watched as the sneaky Orc fell to the ground, its black blood spilling forth.  
  
A cry of surprise came from his brother, and, whirling around, he saw that Elladan was frantically kicking out at an Orc that had somehow latched onto his boot. Seeing that, all around the clearing, Orcs where emerging from the woods, Elrohir knew that they were greatly outnumbered and that, more horrifyingly, they were surrounded.  
  
Deciding that he would have a better chance on foot, Elrohir swiftly dismounted and let another arrow fly at the closest Orc, hitting it in the dead centre of its head. Seeing Elladan kick the Orc that had a hold of him in the head so hard that the neck broke, Elrohir knew that his twin could take care of himself, thus he turned his attention to the quickly filling clearing.  
  
It was as if all of a sudden the forest had come alive. Orcs' shouted in their foul language while bashing their weapons against their crude armor and stomping their feet, their loud cries making Elrohir cringe with hate and disgust. The natural sounds of the forest were there, but with an exception; they all seemed to be afraid. Woodland animals could be heard scattering and scurrying this way and that, their little feet making a barely audible pitter-patter over the noises of the rowdy Orcs'.  
  
Hearing his brother swear in what he thought was the language of the dwarves, Elrohir instantly moved back towards his twin, knowing that he had dismounted and was doing the same. Both had put their bows away, seeing the uselessness of the deadly weapons at such close quarters, and had turned to their twin bow-knives to provide their protection.  
  
Standing back to back in the middle of the not-so-clear clearing, the twins let their eyes dart left and right, taking in numbers and weapon types. Holding their daggers up at the defensive, they saw that there were far too many for them to fight alone and it was with a sinking heart that Elrohir counted what he believed to be the fortieth Orc come into the clearing.  
  
The new Orc seemed to be the leader as, once he came in, all the noise stopped and the other beasts seemed to half show him respect. They all stood to what would appear was their form of attention and none dared to even utter a growl in the presence of this new beast.  
  
Noticing something strange behind the aforementioned creature, Elrohir peered closer to see a glimpse of blond hair. Waiting for the leader to walk around his troops, inspecting the way in which that had captured the two Elves, Elrohir gasped; causing his brother to turn and see what had startled him so.  
  
With his hands bound behind his back and a rope attached about his neck; the other end in the hands of the Orc, stood an Elf. An Elf with blond hair, wearing greens and browns and once the Elf turned his head, through the blood and grime, the twins could see that it was the same one that they had been hunting for the last few hours.  
  
"Well," Elladan hissed out between his teeth while gripping tighter at his daggers, "it would appear that we found our Elf!"  
  
Elrohir just rolled his eyes at their bad luck and his brother's apparent calmness about their situation. His heart was pounding faster and faster, making his palms sweaty and behind his ears itch and deep down, he knew that no matter how tough Elladan pretended to be, he was just as scared and was suffering the same doubts as he.  
  
In his minds eye, all Elrohir could see was the body of his mother when they found her. She had been beaten mercilessly, turning her pale skin into dark shades of blue and black. Her eyes seemed to be hollow, holding none of the light that they once had, and her voice showed that she had long given up hope.  
  
Looking to the mystery Elf that was barely able to stand on his feet, Elrohir felt sorry for the him. He had not hated him as he believed his brother had, for, after all, was it not Elladan who had once told him that everyone does what they do for a purpose, and so he had allowed the blond archer the benefit of the doubt. And now, now he wanted nothing more to help the Elf, to tell him that things would be alright and to perhaps take him back to Estel who seemed so fond of the blond creature.  
  
As if the captive Elf had sensed his eyes upon him, the blond turned his head and looked right into the eyes of Elrohir, causing the latter to shudder. Those eyes seemed hunted, if not by this incident than by something else and it made Elrohir's resolve to help this unknown Elf even stronger.  
  
Yet, before he could further contemplate on the this new found want to help the being that had attempted to kill his foster brother, a cry went up through the ranks of Orcs' and, as one body, they rushed forward, weapons held high and snarls upon their already twisted faces.  
  
*****  
  
Tbc.  
  
Hehehehe, I could not resist.  
  
Umm, for all those that wanted to see Legolas get taken, there is a reason that you didn't - or see what happened after that for that matter. That allows me more leeway with the story later on.  
  
Anyway, I hope you liked it and I do again apologize shortness and the lack of updates.  
  
Minka.  
  
"Now that I've got school covered, I have only the world outside these walls to fuck up." 


End file.
